While painting a painting of Van Gogh’s painting of the irises, I recalled an Irish woman I used to know, who had left the haddock factory to go and live in Paris where she was, at the time, trying to get into art college. “Van Gogh! Van Gogh!” she said. “I am sick of Van Gogh!” As if she knew him personally, or everyone she ever spoke to forced Von Gogh’s into her face, or the whole art world was obssessed with Van Gogh like he was some kind of modern art god to be worshipped and emulated. I think she didn’t get into art college and went travelling somewhere in Africa instead. I never figured out what the problem was with Van Gogh, but there is something about his painting that would understandably provoke that kind of reaction. He is so loud and exaggerated, it’s almost as if he wants you to be sick of him. Who hasn’t seen those sunflowers a million times, and why do they just keep coming? They’re even on the sofa in Married With Children. Then Damien Hirst came along with his spots, and everything caught those instead.

More Van Goghs here.